


Tricks and Treats

by zabjade



Series: Far to Go [8]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8429527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zabjade/pseuds/zabjade
Summary: It’s Halloween in Sunnydale, a time when the monsters are supposed to kick back and take it easy. Unfortunately, some rebellious teen vampires didn’t get the memo, leaving the Scoobies to deal with them while Buffy and Spike prepare for a very important ritual. This story takes place a couple of weeks before the start of Saturday's Child, though I recommend reading it after the first chapter or two of SC.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place a couple of weeks before Saturday's Child, but it's recommended that you read it after the first one or two chapters of that fic.

Spike was in hell, and he’d only himself to blame for it. Jagged shards of pain pulsed through his head, which was hardly fair, seeing as how he didn’t even _have_ a pulse. Better than just a steady stab of pain, though, he supposed. Except, now he thought on it, that was there, too, but a bit more in the background. Thinking was a bloody terrible idea, but now he’d started, he couldn’t stop noticing things. Like how he’d apparently passed out fully clothed on the bed (which didn’t quite feel right, though he couldn’t put his finger on why not) and how his mouth tasted like a puss had smoked an entire carton of fags and died in it.

He whimpered in agony as some sort of giant hell beast thundered along the stairs. Why the bloody hell had he thought an all night bender was a good idea? _Because it was,_ he reminded himself, recalling a few vague memories. Dancing at the Bronze with Buffy and downing enough booze to kill an elephant or six. She’d had a bit as well, showing off an adorable little “icky” face at the taste. She hadn’t gotten drunk, but it had loosened her up some, and god, but she’d been magnificent, swaying with the music. Where _was_ Buffy anyway? He couldn’t feel her in the bed with him.

“Hey, you alive?” Dawn chirped at him, her voice like railroad spikes jabbed right through his ears and into his brain. “Or, well, undead or whatever?”

“What the bloody hell are you doing in our room, Nibblet?” he asked. Or meant to, anyway. What came out was, “Wha buh za,” before he rolled over and fell onto the floor.

He blinked up at the living room ceiling. Huh. Well, that explained things, didn’t it? He’d gone and passed out on the couch. Or been put there after the fact, more like, seeing as how he didn’t actually remember getting home last night. He tried to force his fuzzy memories into some kind of clarity, but was distracted by more ungodly thumps down the stairs. A moment later, Buffy peered down at him, their little princess held in her arms. The sprog was wearing the black knit hat he’d made for her with little cat ears on top. Bloody adorable, she was.

Her mum looked sympathetic and maybe a touch amused, but not angry with him or anything. Nothing at all in her demeanor or expression explained why he’d ended up on the bloody couch instead of snuggled up in their bed with her. Had he done something wrong last night? He couldn’t remember. Just a lot of drinking and smoking and a few rounds of poker while also drinking and smoking. A nice, fat Cuban cigar and a well aged scotch. Mmm.

Yeah, he’d gotten blind, stinking drunk, but seeing as how that had been the entire agreed upon _point_ of the evening – a sort of last hurrah before six months of junk food and daytime telly as his only vices – Buffy being mad at him for it didn’t make a lick of sense.

“Sorry about leaving you on the couch,” Buffy said quietly. “You were seriously out of it, and there was no way I could drag you up the stairs without waking Mom or Thursday.”

Oh. Right. Fair enough, that. The tension that had been building up leaked out of him. Except, as the pounding headache began to fade, an entirely different tension crept up on him, one that had been lingering around the edges ever since they’d finalized their plans for tonight. Halloween, the one night the monsters typically behaved themselves, leaving their schedule clear for….

“No worries, love,” he said, forcing back the nerves. Tonight would be fully on their terms. No getting caught up in someone else’s ritual or having the bloody thing reset to free themselves from dark magic. “Give us a hand up, then, yeah?” He lifted his arm and waved vaguely at Buffy.

She handed Thursday over to Dawn before grabbing his hand and hauling him to his feet. Too fast. Everything swirled and went gray for a moment, and if he’d been human, he’d likely have been sick all over his boots. Once the world stopped spinning he dropped down into the couch with a groan.

“Poor baby,” Buffy murmured, settling down beside him. She glanced up at her sister. “Could you…?”

“Sure thing. One mug of My Little Pony juice coming right up.”

Thursday squealed happily as she was passed back to her mum, the sound shooting through Spike’s head like a jolt from the gone but not forgotten chip. “Oh, god,” he moaned. Why did they want another one, again?

“Aww, noisy baby hurt Daddy,” Buffy cooed. “Kiss and make it better.”

She made kissy faces at Thursday until the sprog imitated them, then gently pressed her face against his forehead. Spike snorted and took the baby from Buffy.

“Bah nyan nah!” she babbled at him before smiling and kissing at the air a few times.

Right. _That_ was why they wanted another one. They were warm, cuddly bundles of cuteness and unconditional love that smelled nice. And Thursday could use a sibling as close to her own age as possible. And, well… much as he loved what had ultimately come from the first time, would be nice to go through it all again with a better start. No violent rape and no being beaten, tortured, and treated like crap for the first few weeks.

“Giles called,” Buffy said suddenly. “He, uh, needs some help at the store. I was thinking I could go in until closing, while you and Dawn watch Halloween specials with the baby.” She picked at a loose thread on the knee of her jeans. “And then we’d meet up at the crypt, as planned. Or, or, um, you could come by to help out once the sun is down. And we could… you know… walk there together.”

Her face was a little pale, and she seemed as nervous as he was. Made sense. He’d been the one attacked before, but the ritual had overwhelmed her, making her naught but a mindless puppet as her body did things she never would have otherwise. He hadn’t been able to defend himself because of the bloody chip, but at least he’d been able to control his own actions, even if they’d caused him pain.

Spike kissed one of Thursday’s adorable, chubby little cheeks before settling her comfortably on his lap. Then he took Buffy’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. “Meet you at the shop soon as Great Pumpkin is over, love,” he promised, squeezing her hand. “We’ll go into this just how we plan to do the rest of it. Me and you together.”

She smiled slightly and squeezed back, just hard enough to cause a little frisson of pain, which she knew he liked. “Yeah, that sounds good. Together.”

 

**...**

 

Pizza, popcorn, soda, candy, scary movies, and home alone with just a baby until after two in the morning, when the special Halloween event at the gallery ended. It should have been totally awesome, and okay, it actually kind of was, but Janice was supposed to be hanging out with her. They’d planned it all out last week, but only an hour ago, Janice had called to say she was grounded. When Dawn had asked why, she’d just mumbled something vague about her room being messy.

_Seriously lame,_ Dawn thought, scowling in the general direction of the TV. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing Mrs. Penshaw would ground for, especially not on a holiday night when plans with someone else had already been made. Maybe she’d gotten the weird idea that being around the baby of unwed parents would rub off on Janice or something? Except, no, that didn’t really sound like Mrs. Penshaw either. _Maybe Janice just didn’t want to hang out with me?_

That thought dimmed a lot of her enjoyment of the evening, so she resolutely crammed more pizza into her mouth, flipped the channel to something R-rated, and peered into the playpen set up right next to the couch. Thursday could scream and wail like a banshee for no apparent reason sometimes, but she was usually pretty laid back. Tonight, she was just getting her groove on, motoring around on all fours and gumming her toys to death. She still had her little kitty hat on, after about five times of putting it back on her in the last twenty minutes, which went nicely with Dawn’s own black cat costume. Which was totally only for the benefit of the trick or treaters. She was fifteen, way too old to be dressing up just for the fun of it.

Dawn finished the slice of pizza and was thinking of making up some pumpkin and banana mush for Thursday when she heard the phone. She hopped up and answered it on the third ring. “Summers Roadkill Cafe, you kill it, we grill it.”

“Hello, Dawn,” Mrs. Penshaw said, sounding at least a little bit amused by the way the phone had been answered. “Can you put Janice on? She was the last one to use the remote, and now I can’t find it.”

She stared blankly at the wall for a moment. She’d been right. Janice _hadn’t_ wanted to hang out with her. But she apparently hadn’t wanted to stay home, either, and hadn’t told her mother about the change in plans. Her best friend had ditched her like she was a three week old cheeseburger, making up a lame excuse instead of telling the truth and asking her to cover for her. She wasn’t going to cry about it. She wasn’t. Because she was fifteen, not five. And Spike had done some really awesome stuff with mascara and eyeliner for her kitty eyes, and she totally wasn’t going to ruin that.

She sniffled and composed herself enough to say, “She isn’t here.”

“That’s not funny, young lady.” No amusement at all in that voice anymore. “Put Janice on, _now_.”

“I… she’s…. She’s really not here. She said you grounded her.”

“She _what_? Oh, god. Where could she…?” There was a pause, then Mrs. Penshaw’s voice came back over the line, grim and angry. “Well, she wasn’t grounded before, now she’ll be lucky if she’s allowed to go anywhere but school for the next three years. Call me if you hear from her.”

Before Dawn could answer, there was a click, followed by the dial tone. She stared at the phone for a moment, then slowly hung it up. Janice was out somewhere in the night in Sunnydale. Seriously not good. Not as bad as it could be, since it was Halloween. It was quiet on Halloween. Except for that one time with the tiny fear demon thingie. Or the time before that, with the costumes. She knew she actually hadn’t existed as a human at that point, but she still remembered turning into a werewolf and being part of Spike’s little kiddie army of eggers, TPers, and Slayer hunters.

So things had only gone uber weird twice, as far as she knew…. Which meant they were probably due for something to go wrong, especially since Buffy’s birthday at the start of the year had actually been _good_ for once. The cosmic balance was probably seriously out of whack from that. She picked the phone back up, but hesitated before dialing Buffy’s cell number. What if she and Spike were already doing the ritual? What would happen if it was interrupted? For all they knew, it could go all wonky, and Spike would end up laying platypus eggs or something. Not really likely, but considering he was a guy and technically dead, platypus babies weren’t beyond the realm of the possible.

There was also the fact that Dawn really didn’t want to interrupt them. They’d been planning this for months and deserved to have it go well. But that didn’t change the fact that Janice was out and could get eaten by something. Or just hurt by a normal person. Dawn bit her lip, unsure of what to do for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and punched in Giles’s number.

 

**...**

 

It was all perfect. It really was. Soft music drifting from the record player in the corner, flickering candlelight casting a warm glow over everything, a wine glass full of chilled white zinfandel. It all set the mood for a romantic evening. Unfortunately, Buffy’s mood was leaning more towards nervous and kind of upchuck-y. She downed her wine in two gulps, nearly choking on it even though it was a lot smoother and tastier than the stuff she’d tried last night.

“One way to do it, I suppose,” Spike said dryly from beside her on the bed. “Works a spell better for relaxing if you sip it rather than inhaling it, though, I’d wager.”

Vague quips about doing things her own way flittered through her mind like dirty cobwebs, but none of them made it past her lips. She carefully set the wine glass down and got up to pace, looking around the lower level of the crypt like she’d never seen it before, even though she’d helped fix it up when they’d decided they needed a private little place of their own sometimes. Bookshelves, a dresser, a bunch of little end and coffee tables, mostly there to be solid surfaces for the candles. The walls were covered in an eclectic mix of posters, paintings, and tapestries, and the floor had a lot of soft, pretty rugs.

And then there was the bed. Big and reinforced – enough to handle whatever a vampire and a slayer could dish out, so far – with a headboard designed just right for sexy fun times with ropes and… things. The burgundy satin sheets were currently decorated with a yummy, naked vampire, stretched out and watching her with a predatory gleam in his eyes. It should have made her more nervous, but something about that look was weirdly reassuring. He did that little head tilt thing, and then, in a flash, he was up off the bed and walking towards her.

She thought he was going to hug her, maybe whisper quiet words of comfort in her ear. Instead, he grabbed her roughly by the arm and threw her face down onto the bed. He was on her before she could even react, straddling her hips and pressing down between her shoulder blades with one hand. The other was fisted in her hair, his knuckles digging into her scalp and fingers pulling steadily.

“Not chipped up anymore, Slayer,” he purr growled. “Remember?”

“Get off!” Buffy snapped, angry and confused.

And kind of turned on. God, the solid weight of him holding her down, pressing her into the sheets, his firm length cool and hard against her ass…. _Damn it, Buffy, focus._ She tried to get up and push him away, but the sheets were too slick, keeping her from getting enough leverage. Spike just laughed softly and leaned forward, burying his face behind her ear as he breathed in her scent. The soft puffs of air sent shivers through her body, tingling through her nipples and down towards her groin.

“Make me,” he whispered.

She froze and swallowed at the sound of his voice. He meant it. Either by overpowering him or using their safe word, if she wanted him off of her, she was going to have to force the issue. She was pissed off enough by whatever the hell he thought he was doing that she was seriously considering the violent option. If she could get some leverage, she could flip them over and…. The past suddenly overwhelmed her. One year and roughly three weeks ago, Spike underneath her, helpless and unable to stop her as she….

Her face was abruptly shoved down, cutting off her breathing for a moment before Spike yanked her head up a bit by her hair. “You listening to me, bitch?” he snarled.

The anger left her, along with the fear she’d been trying to suppress. She’d been telling herself over and over that this time was going to be different. They were both consenting and doing the ritual themselves, so it wouldn’t matter if she turned into an aggressive, crazy, psycho-bitch, because Spike knew what could happen and had already said yes. The thing she’d forgotten, though, was that this time, Spike wasn’t helpless. If she went too far, he could fight back. She’d needed that reminder, and he’d known it.

“Bitch, huh?” she repeated huskily, pulsing her hips to rub against him. “Is that why you have me in this position?”

“Like that, wouldn’t you?” He nibbled at her ear, trailing down to bite at her throat with blunt human teeth. “Arse up in the air like a dog while I fuck you senseless? That what you want, then?”

Oh, god, yes. The sound of his voice was an aphrodisiac, leaving her wet and aching with need. Enough with the damn foreplay, she needed him to…. He shifted, taking his weight off of her as his hands skimmed along her sides to rest on her hips and draw her up so she was resting on her chest and knees. And then…. Oh. Oh, god. She dug her fingers into the mattress and fought to keep her knees in place as he slid inside of her. He filled her completely from that angle, with a stretchy sort of pressure that had her panting and flushed with pleasure.

“Spike,” she cried out, unable to form the words for what she needed.

She didn’t have to. He knew. He pulled out, then slammed back in, rough and aggressive, every thrust hitting her cervix with a burst of pleasure and pain. He fucked her, hard and rough, fingers digging into her hips with enough force to bruise. She felt strong and powerful, like she could take whatever he had. And she could give. She squeezed her slick walls around him, the sounds he made when she did a physical jolt of pleasure that added to her wild race towards orgasm.

She could feel it building up, each thrust of his hips driving her closer and closer to the brink. She clenched down on him and released in rapid succession, milking him until he came with a incoherent shout. It pushed Buffy over the edge, her body jerking and shuddering with the surge of pleasure. Her knees lost the battle against the satin, and she collapsed flat onto the bed, panting and sated. Then Spike was stretched out beside her, his arm across her shoulders and leg flung over her hips.

She grunted vaguely at him, which earned her a soft laugh and a kiss. “Love you, too, Buffy,” he murmured.

And for that one little moment, everything was good and right with her world.

 

**...**

 

“Isn’t it unethical to search for someone like this?” Bethany asked uncertainly as she joined hands with two others members of the Sunnydale U Wicca group.

When Tara had first joined them, they’d been a bunch of pretenders mostly interested in bake sales, but things had changed after Willow’s spell to take over Sunnydale. Most of the people in town had forgotten, but a lot of the Wicca group hadn’t. When they’d starting coming by the Magic Box for books and spell ingredients, Tara had known she had a choice to make. Ignore it, or get involved and make sure they had the grounding in ethics that Willow had never really gotten.

While Tara was still, at heart, a shy girl who preferred to stay in the background, her time with the Scoobies had given her the confidence she’d needed to do the right thing. Now, four of the eleven young women – all she’d been able to gather on such short notice – were with her at the Magic Box, ready to cast a spell together. Giles, Xander, and Anya had been out looking without any luck, but were back now, waiting to see if magic could help.

“If this was an adult, then, yes,” Tara said in response to Bethany, glad the question had come up even if it slowed things down a little. “B-but….” She forced herself to take a couple of calming breaths. “This is a child, out alone at night. A lot could happen in the time it would take to find her without magic.”

The vampires and other demons may have tended to stay in for Halloween, but that didn’t mean they would just ignore it if a tasty snack wandered by their homes. And it meant nothing to the human monsters out there who preyed on children. A simple, non-invasive spell seemed like the best option. They would just respectfully call up a guiding light to show them where the girl was, and ask it to glow red if she was in danger. It would pulse if that danger was supernatural.

“Okay, ready?” Tara asked, glancing at the other witches.

Nods all around, so she took a deep breath and began to chant. Four voices joined her own, their power filling the circle. It was good and wholesome, working with nature and asking, rather than demanding or just taking without any thought to the consequences. It was how magic was supposed to be. Her joy in the magic was short lived as the guiding light took form. For a split second it was green, then it changed to a vivid, pulsing red.

“Damn it,” Xander muttered, face pale. They were all worried about Janice, but he’d spent the most time around her, taking her and Dawn to school a few times a week. “We need to get Buffy and Spike.”

Anya frowned. “I don’t know if we should interrupt them. They’re in the middle of very important orgasms right now.”

One of the Wicca group, Alexis, let out a startled giggle at the blunt words, then clapped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

“Anya, I hardly think –” Giles began, voice heavy with disapproval.

“N-no,” Tara interrupted. “She, she’s right.” She blushed and fidgeted as everyone stared at her like she’d suddenly turned blue or something. Except for Anya. She just looked pleased. “I-it’s not just about the sex. They’re adding to their family. And… and I think they need this. After, after what happened last year.” She pushed her hair behind her ears and squared her shoulders, trying to project confidence. “We have five witches, a Watcher trained in all kinds of things, an ex-vengeance demon, and a guy who’s fought a lot of monsters over the last several years. We, we can do this.”

Giles just stared at her for a moment, then nodded decisively. “You are absolutely correct,” he said. “We can do this.” He turned towards the training room, where the weapons were stored. “We’ve precious little time for it, I’d imagine, so we’d best get a move on. We’ve a young lady to save.”

 

**...**

_“…doca vivendi soo’va nin.”_

It had been a little over a year now, but Buffy still remembered that night. She’d been confused about Riley, and how he claimed to accept “both” parts of her. And now here she was with Spike, who saw her as a multi-faceted gem, and loved every segment of her, even the not so pretty ones. They were sitting across from each other on the bed, Spike with his back to the headboard as he recited the words of the ritual. The Kevary idol was on the nightstand along with her cell phone. With the way her life tended to go, she was expecting it to ring at any moment.

_“Sok nav doca resec. Rundiv ny nin toten.”_

She almost wished it would. She wanted this. They _both_ wanted this, but there was also a part of her that wanted to just call it all off. It was all jumbled up in her head right now. The rape, the beating right after, how she’d treated him those first weeks. God, at one point she’d been fighting the urge to break his spine again. What if something happened and she couldn’t stop herself from following through on that idea? What if Drusilla decided to show up again and rip _this_ baby out, too? He was doing better, but Spike still had separation anxiety issues from that happening with Thursday. Maybe they shouldn’t do this. Maybe….

_“Venkao rundiv nin toten varna kavu.”_

It was too late, now. There was a moment of utter stillness after the last word. Then the magic came, slamming into her like a tidal wave.

 

**...**

 

She had him pinned down, hands and mouth roaming feverishly. Fingertips and nails, teeth and tongue and lips, and…. Oh, god. He couldn’t think, only feel, only arch and writhe against her as she touched him, igniting his nerve endings with a liquid fire of pleasure. She undulated above him as she raked her nails along his sides, and there was no way he’d be able to last for much longer.

“Buff… nng… _gah_!” Incoherent sounds spilled out of him as she finally stopped the bloody teasing and straddled his hips, taking him deep inside.

It was almost too much. The slick heat of her as she rode him, back arched and breasts swaying in time with her movements. Hard, fast, and aggressive. A golden huntress using their bodies to proclaim him both partner and prey. And through it all, somewhere beneath the haze of pleasure, Spike could feel… _something._ Something surging and reaching and trying to connect to the woman above him. It was vaguely familiar, like something he might have felt during the ritual last year, but had been too panicked to really pay attention to.

“Bite me!” she gasped out suddenly, her voice ragged as she leaned over him. God, was she beautiful. Skin slick with sweat, lips parted as she panted for breath, cheeks flushed, and eyes dark and wild with need. She was close, riding the edge just as much as he was. “Now! Do it now!”

He vamped out and went for her throat, sucking and lapping at her heated flesh before piercing it with his fangs. Her blood spilled into him, hot and wild and powerful, shaking him like a rag doll in its grip and flinging him over the edge. And as he fell, he could feel it. Something inside of Buffy, something that was part of her very being, reaching out to that _something_ within him, mingling to create something precious and new.

 

**...**

 

The teenage vampire rushed forward with a snarl, but before he could reach his target, Giles swung his axe. The vampire seemed to hang there in two pieces for a split second before bursting into dust with a shriek of displaced demonic energies. Was that the last of them? He was fairly certain that had been the last of them. A quick glance around confirmed it. It was just the four of them, the girls from Tara’s Wicca group, and Janice.

The girl had been bitten, but not killed. She was sitting on the ground next to Tara, pale and shocky as the witch pressed prepared herbs against the bite. _Well, perhaps she’ll come out of this with a bit more common sense,_ he thought irritably. He was no stranger to youthful rebellion and the need to break free from restrictions, but he had very little sympathy for her. What she’d done had been bloody stupid.

“Did we get them all?” Xander asked, sounding out of breath.

“Yes, we did,” Giles answered, sagging a bit now that the adrenalin was gone. He felt old and tired and rather in need of a nice cuppa and a sit down. “And now….” He dropped to the ground in a sitting position, careful of the axe. “I think I need to just sit here and die for a moment.”

They were all worn out, but they’d done it. They’d taken out an entire little gang of vampires without having to rely on the Slayer or her vampire. _Happy Halloween, Buffy,_ he thought with a fond smile. She certainly deserved it.

 

**...**

 

Buffy remembered everything that she’d done to Spike. She’d been overwhelmed by the need to claim him as hers, to mark her territory with sex and aggression. So she’d lunged at him, pushing him down onto his back as she clawed and bit and ruthlessly took advantage of how sensitive the ritual made him to her touch. It had been intense, wild, and unrelenting.

And absolutely fantastic.

She smiled and lazily turned onto her side to face Spike. He was lying on his stomach, face pillowed on his arms and looking sweet and innocent with his eyes closed. She didn’t think he was actually sleeping, though, just resting a little. Her hand settled between his shoulder blades, then traveled down his back with firm pressure.

“Mmmm.” He arched up against her hand and stretched with a sigh of pleasure, though Buffy wasn’t sure if it was because of lingering effects from the ritual or just because of how much he enjoyed being touched. “Hello there, love,” he murmured huskily, eyes fluttering open to gaze at her.

“Hey.” Her smile changed to a slight frown as she petted him again. Was it her imagination, or did his skin feel a little cooler than it should? “Hang on a sec.”

She sat up and rummaged through the nightstand drawer for the warming amulet Tara had powered up for them. When she turned back towards Spike, he was on his side, propped up on one arm while he reached for the amulet. Instead of handing it over, she put it over his head for him.

“You’re supposed to be resting and taking it easy the rest of this week, remember?” she mock scolded.

That earned her a snort of amusement. “Right, because putting on a bit of leather cord with a stone attached is ever so straining,” he said dryly.

“You could get finger cramps,” she said solemnly as she snuggled against him.

“That so, hmm? Wouldn’t want that, I suppose.” He glanced past her towards the nightstand, where her phone was sitting. “Expected one of your mates to ring at any moment. Not much we could have done about it, though, if it had been after things got started.”

“Yeah. Thank God it was a nice, quiet Halloween this year.”


End file.
